


What Beats This High

by commonpeoplecommonfaces



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cutesy shit, Ficlet, Joe is v observant, M/M, Patroh, Recreational Drug Use, i dont know how tags work, joetrick - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 20:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13465842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commonpeoplecommonfaces/pseuds/commonpeoplecommonfaces
Summary: Joe closes his eyes as he exhales and lets out another puff of smoke. He tilts his head back and sighs again as the blunt he’s smoking starts to kick in. The cool tingle of the dark night air against his face is refreshing and leaves him feeling more awake. It feels like he couldn’t miss seeing a thing even if he tried.A short little ficlet in which Joe realizes something while having his regular smoke.





	What Beats This High

Joe closes his eyes as he exhales and lets out another puff of smoke. He tilts his head back and sighs again as the blunt he’s smoking starts to kick in. The cool tingle of the dark night air against his face is refreshing and leaves him feeling more awake. It feels like he couldn’t miss seeing a thing even if he tried. He bets to himself if there was a dude wearing camouflage right now he’d be able to see it. Even against the pitch blackness of nighttime. He wonders what kind of goof would be wearing camouflage at 11:22 pm and starts to laugh at the mental image of it.

Joe can feel everything from the dry, peeling paint of the windowsill underneath his fingertips all the way to mild, slow breeze whooshing against the hairs of his bare arms. He leans onto his elbows and lets his mind wander, half his body now dangling out the window. It’s fortunate that Joe happened to have a dorm in the emptiest part of the university’s housing quarters. No one could see him smoking while on the brink of falling out of his window even if they tried.

A tune he heard earlier that day worms its way into his head, and he starts swaying with the rhythm and humming around the blunt in his mouth. He taps his fingers against his crossed arms, listening to the pitter patter of his fingertips against his skin.

Just as Joe starts thinking a burger and fries would totally hit the spot right now, he hears the door open and then promptly click shut. He takes his time turning around, reluctant to move from his spot at the window. He already knows who it is anyway. He’s been used to Patrick coming in and out of their dorm at bizarre hours for awhile now.

Patrick laughs softly at the sight of Joe’s stoned dancing and sheds his jacket, tossing it onto his bed, and adding to the growing pile of clothes that dominates Patrick’s half of the room, which Joe can never stop complaining about. Patrick opens his mouth to ask what Joe’s been up to when he gets cut off by a loud rumble. His eyes dart to Joe’s stomach then back up to Joe, who’s sheepishly grinning at him and shrugging. Patrick chuckles breathily and offers the takeout bag he’s been holding to him. The plastic rustles ,and the contents inside the box shuffle as his arm jerks.

“ I figured you’d have the munchies again. And I’m tired of you hounding me for food every night, so I figured I’d finally get ahead of the game and pick up some food for you on the way back. The guys running the bar downtown pay handsomely in leftovers for gigs it turns out,” Patrick explains, arm outstretched. Joe takes the bag from Patrick and wastes no time in opening everything and shoving a handful of fries into his mouth.

“Sheriousmy, yer a shain. I owe you everyhing I have,” Joe garbles around the mouthful of fries.

“Yeah, yeah, buddy. All in a day's work. Now I’m gonna down 13 Red Bulls and pray that I don’t fail my Lit final tomorrow because I’m totally fucked and haven’t studied even a bit,” he says while swatting his hand to emphasize how the food was no big deal.

Joe savors the taste of oily, lukewarm leftovers in his mouth and intently watches Patrick pull out all his materials. He notices how one of the buttons on his left sleeve is undone and has made an itty bitty, little dent right above his elbow where his sleeve is rolled up to. Meanwhile, the right sleeve is perfectly set and resting in the crease of his arm.

Patrick is very pale Joe observes. But it’s not like a translucent vampire pale. It’s more of a fair, I don’t go outside too much unless to eat or do music or school stuff kind of pale.

Patrick’s hunched over his desk, looking concentrated and scrawling stuff down in between glances at his textbook and notebook. The sound of his pencil scratching against the paper gives Joe a rush, but is also oddly soothing. It reminds him of the fleeting nervousness of test taking followed by intense concentration.

Patrick’s hair starting to get long again. Not as long as it was before when Joe first met him at Borders when he had that weird sort of 80’s bob haircut going on. But it’s long enough that a few tufts peek over his ears and some others flop a little bit onto his forehead. Joe wonders what it’d feel like to run his fingers through Patrick’s hair. It looks a little oily from where he’s sitting, slouched in his bed, but maybe it’s just the light shining in a weird way. Joe shivers a little at the thought and chomps on his burger, imagining the scratchy sound of his fingers gliding through the short strands of hair. He rubs his sock covered feet against each other and enjoys the warmth and comforting little tickle from it, curling his toes. He smiles at the feeling and glances over at Patrick once again. He can’t help but wonder if Patrick would be ticklish on his feet.

He recalls one incident where he was poking Patrick in the belly and nearly lost his front teeth and broke his nose from Patrick flailing so hard in response. Lesson learned. Tickling Patrick is a dangerous idea.

Very dangerous.

Patrick sighs and flips the pages in his textbook rapidly. Eyes shifting back and forth across the pages. He groans defeatedly and rubs the bridge of his nose with one hand while the other is splayed against all his papers and shuffling them around, making a quiet little shhft shhft sound against the wooden desk. Joe empathizes with the frustration Patrick’s feeling. He remembers just how stressful and tense studying for his finals were not too long ago. It makes him all the more thankful that he just took his last final today. Joe just wishes Patrick was done with all his exams already, so they could just hang out and relax. Patrick’s a ridiculously hard worker, but he’s also horribly disorganized and not too great at time management, which makes life infinitely harder for him. Even with all of the work loading his plate, Patrick’s always thinking of others and giving favors. Joe would probably have starved to death months ago if it weren’t for Patrick watching out for him.

A little bubble of warmth starts to spread in his chest. And Joe can’t help the urge to give Patrick a hug or something just to give him some well deserved affection. He wants Patrick to know that he appreciates him and sees all the good shit that he does for everybody, including him, even though he really doesn’t have to. But he’s way too stoned to articulate all of that at the moment without it sounding like some schoolgirl confession, so Joe settles for a hug.

He places his half finished burger back in the container and crawls out of his creaky bed. He hovers by the desk at Patrick’s side for a few moments trying to ground himself in reality and not get lost in every little detail. It’s easier said than done though. It’s hard to look away from the sharp edges of Patrick’s cheekbones while they’re bathed in the shadowy, dim lamplight. Or the way the colors of his well worn flannel shirt compliment his skin. Or the sight of Patrick’s hair sticking up on the side of his head and making him look stylishly disheveled.

The realization that these are things that Joe always notices even when not stoned is, well, strange— at least for Joe’s altered mind to take in.

It hits Joe that what he’s feeling and has felt is more than just platonic affection. The long glances. The unpinpointable fondness. The weird little melancholy he feels when Patrick isn’t around. The tingly, warm feeling in his chest whenever Patrick laughs or smiles at him. The rush he gets whenever they accidentally touch. The unprecedented comfort he feels when he’s with him.

It’s definitely a crush, if not love.

It’s a lot for Joe to take in at once. He stands still for a few more moments trying to process everything. In the back of his mind he hopes Patrick isn’t disturbed by him just awkwardly standing there in silence. But the possibility of that is unlikely, considering Joe’s done much weirder things before.

His somewhat newly realized feelings only strengthens Joe’s desire to shower Patrick with physical affection.

He scoots a little closer and wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders over his chair, resting his hands on his chest. Patrick stops writing and blinks, raising his eyebrows at Joe. Joe just hums and rests his head on top of Patrick’s, nuzzling his face in Patrick’s—not oily—hair.

Fortunately, Patrick doesn’t recoil from the touch. In fact, he leans into it and rests his hands against Joe’s where they’re resting on his chest. Joe feels an indescribable warmth everywhere. His palms start sweating though once Patrick turns and holds Joe’s face in his hands, looking him straight in the eyes. It’s not a stern or reprimanding look. It’s more observing and examining than anything. Nonetheless, any look from Patrick is always welcome in Joe’s book. Any of Patrick’s attention on him works really.

Joe’s eyes are bright and blue and piercing against the darkness of his pupils. It’s not intimidating or aggressive though. It’s much more soft and kind. Like the openness of the sky on a clear day.

Joe’s pupils are blown, but they’re definitely different from what they usually look like when he’s stoned. Something is definitely different. Patrick can tell. He just can’t put his finger on it.

Joe takes the chance while he still can.

He leans in, pressing his lips softly against Patrick’s with his eyes closed. Patrick stills for a brief moment and holds his breath, hands hovering away from the sides of Joe’s face. He eases back almost immediately though and presses back against Joe’s lips, while his hands come back to rest on Joe’s cheeks. Joe sighs and can’t help but smile against Patrick’s lips. He pulls back and touches his forehead to Patrick’s, placing his hands over Patrick’s against his face. Joe huffs out a nervous laugh and stutters,

“I—I…I sort of..I—you know, uhh I like—“ Patrick places his finger against Joe’s lips.

“I know,” he smiles, “I do too by the way. A lot.” Patrick assures as he strokes his thumb against the back of Joe’s hands.

Now, _this_ beats any high ever, Joe thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a little rambling scrap i wrote because i felt inspired by this one prompt. But yeah uhhh this is my first fic so please feel free to leave feedback and comments!


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